


Wet

by snoqualmie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, i dont have a spit kink please dont @ me about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 02:43:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11095242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snoqualmie/pseuds/snoqualmie
Summary: Tooru always thinks he’s ready for things like this, for Iwaizumi in general, but he isn't.





	Wet

**Author's Note:**

> this is bad ple ase dont read it

There are these days sometimes where the two of them have absolutely no desire to do anything but laze around. It tends to be harmless; they can blame each other on the resulting lack of things getting done but it provides both of them with an excuse to keep hanging out despite the fact that they’re not even _doing_ anything. Today is one of those days, Tooru muses, as Iwaizumi’s fingers drag in a slow circle around his bellybutton. Iwaizumi won’t stop touching him.

It’s not abnormal or even a problem, really. Iwaizumi tends to be touching Tooru most of the time in one way or another but without the constraints of common decency things have gotten slightly out of hand. He’s managed to shove his hand up the front of Tooru’s shirt and he’s touching the planes of his stomach, slow and careless, using the tip of his nose to turn pages so he doesn’t have to stop.

It feels good and Tooru is a teenage boy, kind of, and sometimes things _happen_ so he just hopes Iwaizumi doesn’t notice that those things are happening to say the least.

It’s hard, though, which is ironic and awful all wrapped up and tied together with a little bow. Especially when Iwaizumi’s fingers brush over the hair below his navel and dip into the waist of his shorts so he can just nudge his fingers through the thicker hair there. His fingers retreat after what feels like a million years and go back to tracing nonsense across his stomach. 

Did he not notice?

Tooru _almost_ wants to kick him.

He tries to relax instead. He stares at his ceiling, counts the stars that are too old to glow anymore, tries to remember every single name of the 2013 Japanese National volleyball team on the poster on the wall. But the fingers come back and this time he jumps and Iwaizumi pauses, eyes snapping to Tooru’s face before wandering down to where his hand is jammed down the front of Tooru’s shorts.

“Sorry,” he says stupidly.

Idiot.

“It’s fine,” Tooru says but it catches on the way out because Iwaizumi hand doesn’t stop, just readjusts and brushes things that it shouldn’t be brushing.

“You’re hard,” Iwaizumi says. Stupidly. Again. He’s stupid. His fingers are warm as he wraps them around Tooru and squeezes.

“You stuck your hand down my pants, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi sits halfway up and stares at the tent Tooru is pitching like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.

“Can I suck you off?”

“Disgusting,” Tooru wails. _“Disgusting._ I hate when you say it outloud!”

“But you’re hard.”

“Then ignore it,” Tooru says, waving his hands. “Just read your book.”

“But you’re hard.”

Tooru gives Iwaizumi with a look. Iwaizumi looks back, equally as annoyed. And then they don’t ignore it because Tooru is weak-willed and Iwaizumi is handsy and there are things like bluetooth radio systems. They can just turn the music up louder so Iwaizumi’s parents can’t hear Tooru muffling whines into his fist while Iwaizumi mouths at his legs all slow like he’s got all the time in the world.

“If you’re gonna do it, just do it,” Tooru snaps, pushing his hips up. He wants friction, pressure, anything.

But Tooru never thinks before he talks and egging Iwaizumi on in situations like this is such a bad idea because then Iwaizumi goes from lazy and sated to eager and insistent and it’s too much. Iwaizumi’s yarding him closer, mouth open and wet against Tooru’s thighs. Tooru threads his fingers into Iwaizumi’s hair and tugs at it in warning. _Don’t leave any marks,_ it says. _Please, they’re so embarrassing._

“Iwa-chan,” he says. “I hate when you do this.”

Iwaizumi ignores him as he nudges his nose into the crook of Tooru’s thigh because they both know Tooru’s full of shit, that he loves it. He loves when Iwaizumi gets like this, pulling him close and grabbing him and biting at his skin just a little bit too hard. He leaves ridiculous and embarrassing marks as he nips his way across Tooru’s thighs. It’s awful, really, because it feels so good that Tooru’s fingers are starting to shake, that his shoulders want to curl in and everything is too much and somehow still not enough. Iwaizumi keeps pulling back to suck in deep breaths, to swallow hard and loud.

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru mumbles. “Why are you so gross today?”

Iwaizumi’s head comes up then, a little too fast, though, and he properly drools down his own chin, eyes unfocused and hazy. It should be disgusting but Tooru’s eyes lock on the wet spot on Iwaizumi’s chin, on the way his mouth is hanging open and how good it’d look with— 

“Sorry,” Iwaizumi says, wiping his chin. “I was thinking about it.”

“It?” Tooru asks, smacking the top of his head. “What the heck is ‘it’?”

“What we were talking about earlier.”

It’s a vague statement but Iwaizumi presses his face into the tent Tooru is pitching and takes a deep breath and then all the sudden a lot of things make sense. Iwaizumi’s mouth is _watering._ That’s so embarrassing. Tooru shudders, though, as Iwaizumi mouths at his cock through the thin material of his briefs because it’s so unfair that he can work Tooru up like this.

“In my mouth,” Iwaizumi mumbles, breath hot and overwhelming. “I want it in my mouth.”

“Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi’s eyes are unfocused, his cheeks are flushed and he looks so damn out of it that Tooru couldn’t even dream of saying no. So he says yes. He lets Iwaizumi pull his shorts off, his boxers off. He lets Iwaizumi wrap his fingers around the base of his cock, lets him drag his mouth slow and careful and _wet_ wherever he damn well pleases. His eyes close like he’s the happiest boy in the world as he nuzzles his face into the underside of it, nose turned up and pressed right under the head, and Tooru’s this close to having a proper heart attack when he finally takes it into his mouth.

He always thinks he’s ready for things like this, for Iwaizumi in general, really, but he never is. Iwaizumi’s mouth is heaven. Warm and wet and soft pressure. Tooru moans low at the back of his throat and any semblance of nonchalance he was holding onto is suddenly gone, legs falling open.

“I hate you,” Tooru whines, hooking a leg around Iwaizumi’s shoulder. His heel slips on the soft fabric of Iwaizumi’s shirt but he hikes it back up. “You’re so mean.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t offer a verbal response, just mouths at the head of his cock, face happy and relaxed. Screw him. Tooru’s fingers tremble helplessly against the sheets, curling into fists, uncurling. Iwaizumi is so rude. His tongue is so soft, his hair is coarse and thick when Tooru finally manages to get his fingers twisted into it.

Iwaizumi nudges his hands under Tooru’s hips and pulling him up, urging him to push his hips into Iwaizumi’s face. His nails are blunt where they dig into the soft give of Tooru’s ass and Tooru can feel his muscles starting to get shaky. He takes more with each downward movement, hand firm and warm around what he can’t fit in his mouth and Tooru’s brain is melting, his stomach is a knot, he’s so in love. He’s died and he’s in heaven.

“Why are you like this?” Tooru gasps, thighs coming up on either side of Iwaizumi’s head as Iwaizumi takes him deep enough that he can almost feel the back of his throat. “Why are you—”

Tooru chokes himself off with another moan, toes curling as Iwaizumi has the audacity to swallow around him like it’s not a big deal, like he hasn’t been pumped as hell about not gagging anymore for barely a couple of weeks. It sounds so _awful_. It’s obscene and wet sounding and Tooru can feel spit cooling his skin.

“You’re terrible,” Tooru wheezes when Iwaizumi hollows his cheeks and his eyes flick up and wander over Tooru’s face. “Oh my god, I love you.”

Tooru has to look away after that. He knows his limits as a person and he knows that any eye contact the two of them make while Iwaizumi sucks him off is going to result in an instant end to everybody’s fun.

Tooru lets his head fall back into the pillow as he takes deep breaths and muffles his moans into the crook of his elbow. His face is burning and he squeezes his eyes shut, ignores the sting of tears that he’s barely aware of when Iwaizumi’s tongue drags across the head of his cock, flat and slow and _hot._

When he manages to pick his head up off the pillow Iwaizumi’s eyebrows are pulled low on his forehead and his eyes are closed, fingers splayed on Tooru’s thighs. The drag of his mouth looks as good as it feels and Tooru grits his teeth, concentrates hard so he can watch. Iwaizumi’s knees are halfway settled in the mattress and he’s grinding down into it like he’s getting off on this more than Tooru is.

“You’re so pretty,” Tooru murmurs, smoothing Iwaizumi’s hair back from his forehead. It just falls back into place but it’s the thought that counts.

Iwaizumi groans and a shudder rocks through him, fingers wrapping tight around Tooru’s hips in a clear _give me more._

Tooru grinds his hips up into Iwaizumi’s face because he knows he can take it, he knows Iwaizumi won’t choke anymore because they’ve been getting way better at that sort of thing. They’re getting really good at every sort of thing. Iwaizumi’s getting rather impressive at bringing Tooru off in a litany of ways that’s so awesome Tooru almost wants to tell the entire world about how good it is or how long they can go for these days.

But sometimes things happen. Tooru can’t be held accountable for those times but they definitely happen which is why there’s an exact moment. There’s an _exact_ moment where Iwaizumi presses the tip of a spit-lubed finger into him and however much stamina Tooru thought he had flies straight out the window and he comes hard enough that he feels tears prick his eyes. There’s no warning for Iwaizumi but Tooru vaguely notices that he takes it like an absolute champ and doesn’t even pull away. He just lets out another throaty groan and swallows like it’s a mouthful of literally anything other than what it is. He doesn’t pull off until Tooru’s hips are jerking away and the words he’s trying to get out just turn into whimpers.

The wet sound Iwaizumi’s mouth makes when he leans back settles right into the bottom of Tooru’s gut and Tooru looks at him. He looks ridiculously satisfied, drooling down his chin and a little bit dazed.

“You have,” Tooru says breathlessly with a limp gesture.

Iwaizumi hums and reaches up to wipe corner of his mouth, catching the come that he couldn’t swallow quick enough and sucking it off.

“That’s not what I meant,” Tooru huffs. “You’re so awful.”

Iwaizumi just gives this little smile that Tooru’s grown up seeing. It’s lopsided and cocky and Tooru wants to punch him in the face or maybe just finger him until _he’s_ the one all strung out and red-faced.

**Author's Note:**

> toldu it was bad


End file.
